


putting out the fire with gasoline

by Anonymous



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dysfunctional Relationships, Jealousy, Large Insertion, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Pining, Sex Toys, Voyeurism, camboy Lio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Through the mass of videos on the website, hundreds of them, pages upon pages of results—any number of them doesn’t hold a candle compared to his show. His is the best by far. Galo likes everything about him, wants to be able to tell him in person, some day.Galo has a crush on a Cam Boy.
Relationships: Kray Foresight/Lio Fotia, Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72
Collections: Anonymous





	putting out the fire with gasoline

After a trying day of university, intense workout routines at the gym, and slugging through his part-time job, Galo has successfully made it home with his head in order and leftover time to spare. 

He scrambles through the door, kicks his shoes off in a corner, reheats a pre-made meal while waiting for his laptop to boot up, and as he watches his food spin in the microwave, he thinks to himself how any other young adult student would be spending this precious time with friends, playing video games, attending social parties, or indulging in stupid, irresponsible fun things you’re supposed to at his age. 

And yeah, all that sounds well and good. He’s no stranger to stupid fun activities and being the butt end of said activities, but tonight is Thursday night, so he’ll be spending the rest of his evening watching Boss. 

He even set up a notification on his phone and everything—responsible! 

Dinner is finished, which was difficult to do on top of the swell of excitement coiling in his gut, and he carts off the remainder of his meal before planting himself on his desk chair, and opens up the search engine to log onto the site. 

It had started as an innocent accident, a random, unassuming mis-click during a solitary night of jerking off, and now, frankly, it has begun to take over his life.

He can’t stop watching.

Like it’s hard-wired in his brain, every morning on Thursday he’s left hard and aching when he wakes up, palming himself through his joggers to get through the day, his mind unwillingly and unhelpfully drawn back again and again to what he’s so eager for come evening. 

See now, the thing is...Galo has...a crush. He’s crushing hard, and it’s a secret he doesn’t feel wholly confident or ready to tell anyone else about yet. It’s kinda embarrassing how obsessive he’s become, honestly.

Boss is the sort of type Galo has always been into. It’s a simple picture, really. Sexy and authoritative. Flirty with some bite. Fair skin and a face chiseled in fine angles. 

One day, leading into adulthood, he had realized where his tastes must have subconsciously stemmed from. When he had touched himself and imagined a different set of hands sweeping along those private places, it had been Kray Foresight, his childhood hero, he ended up seeing behind his closed eyelids. 

Boss and Kray, both blonde and icy but burning and visceral at their cores—a devastating combination, and Boss encapsulates so much of what he’s grown to adore.

A naked Kray was merely a fantasy conjured in the head of a lonely adolescent. Boss, on the other hand…well.

Seven minutes until the stream and Galo is getting antsy, rubbing his hands on his pant legs. He has waited for so long after a hard, winded day, his unsatisfied arousal even harder, if possible. 

Four. Galo refreshes the website page.

The room is silent except for the humming from his laptop fan. 

One minute. 

His heart does a little flip when Boss’s icon finally blinks green in the chat, bubbles so much energy he is nearly shaking with it, as he hovers over the new video thumbnail and clicks it.

The image is blurry and the stream runs a little slow, at first, all crackly and pixelated at the edges, and Galo groans, wills his Wi-Fi to pick up pace and catch up with what’s going on the other side of the camera.

Once the video stops buffering on his laptop, Boss is as clear as crystal in high definition.

It should be no surprise he has good equipment—Galo has seen many, many times the hundreds of dollars internet fanatics throw at him on a regular basis (not like Galo is any different) from just taking off a bit of clothing, a tasty appetizer before Boss had transitioned to the meat of the performance.

He has a nice set up: soft, mood lighting encases the room in a magenta glow, there's a tidy bed with throw pillows, a night stand clear of anything but a lone lamp, and not much else is allowed to be visible. 

He’s wearing those black, leather shorts Galo loves so much, offset with a loose, white t-shirt where the pert of his nipples poke out. His hands are adorned by onyx gloves of a similar kind of fashion, backless and tight at each finger digit, but Galo is always left a little disappointed when Boss’s face comes into view, slightly obscured by a face mask. Boss typically does not remove it during the stream, despite how many credits he gleans from viewers begging him to do so. He really has the prettiest baby face and it’s a shame he hides it so often. 

Although Galo knows it's primarily for Boss’s privacy, there is never a night where he isn't left fantasizing about a cute, pink tongue wetting thin, smooth lips behind the cloth, and how sinful that tongue looks playing at the tip of a cock. 

Nonetheless, Boss is simply gorgeous with his slim frame and sharp eyes. “Is the stream quality focused, can you hear me?” His voice chimes through the speakers, peppered with an accent, and Galo swears that’s enamoring all on its own, listening to the way he softly breathes over the consonants of words.

Mere seconds go by before messages pop into the chat bar. Galo hastily types a message of his own for his credit—his card is already saved on site for convenience. The alert box chimes on screen along with his enthusiastic greeting. Ah ha, he’s the first one to make a payment!

His contribution isn’t much—Galo wants to be able to throw money (and himself) at the man, but he plainly cannot—all he has to spare are meager credits from a meager budget. But to send a credit, even a single one, will flash his username, and Boss might see him and realize how dedicated he is about being here, being on time, watching from start to finish no matter how long that may be, even if the likelihood of Boss doing that and noticing are slim to none—and yeah…

It’s embarrassing. 

“A donation already? I haven’t even done anything yet. Must be eager.” With that, Boss’s glances at the screen and then his eyes crinkle in a smile. “Oh, hey burning_soul guy. Your timing is impeccable,” he says, voice calm and low, “thanks for tuning in.”

Boss gives the camera a wink for him, with a playful kind of fire that sizzles, and Galo swoons. 

Views begin to climb higher in the stream, so Boss takes his position to lounge on his bed—a queen size with fresh charcoal blankets—waving hello to his viewers who are already starting to fill up the comments and introducing himself to those who are new. 

Galo, for one, knows exactly who this man is, because every night for the last four—maybe five, now, he’s lost count—months, he has logged in to watch him.

Boss needs no introductions, not where people like Galo are concerned.

“For those who don’t know, I’ll explain how this works.” Once the formalities are in order, he skims through the plethora of messages, “You make a suggestion, a request, and I’ll offer a price for payment. If you contribute enough to my liking, I’ll do it—but only on reasonable terms I agree with.” 

Galo watches his initial message disappear as the chat log picks up activity, so he blinks in shock when he’s called to attention by the man through the computer screen. 

“So...burning_soul guy?” Boss’s gaze lifts from the chat and locks directly to the camera, directly at Galo, and a thrill shoots down his back at the acknowledgement. His name—his own username...just came off Boss’s tongue, completely unprompted. 

“First come, first serve. What are _you_ going to want tonight?” There’s that flirty bite he’s so captivated with; it burns him up too. 

One slender leg cross over the other, and Galo’s eyes don’t miss the movement. Boss’s legs are covered in stockings with a lace trim, bouncing his foot in a coy manner, waiting, and still staring.

Galo’s erection is stiff to the point where he can scarcely stand it. 

God, everything about Boss is so sexy!

His fingers shoot for the keyboard to reply but before he can type out a word, he is wavering. 

He...doesn’t even know. He likes everything Boss does. Likes everything he says, everything about his body. Everything. 

Time’s ticking. He’s afraid his reply is going to drown in the sea of comments behind the dozen of other spectators already posting their unabashed requests, even though Boss didn’t ask for _theirs_. He doesn’t want to come off as too desperate to a stranger in a room full of horny loners, well...he is desperate, but not as desperate as he could be! 

Probably would be best to answer honestly, he decides: 

_***burning_soul: anything you want to do, i guess?? i’ll be happy with whatever you choose!** _

“Really? Aww,” Boss’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Well, aren’t you sweet.”

Galo’s jaw goes slack and the tips of his ears turn pink. Already aroused, his body keys up further, like every hair is standing on end. 

“As for the rest of you, what attracted you to my stream? Tell me what you like about me.” His eyes are on them, and he is awarded with quick replies:

_***your ass is fire** _

_***bread emoji. Bread emoji. Eggplant emoji.** _

_***you’re so gorgeous!!** _

_***bet you’re great at taking dick. you’re so hot** _

Galo wants to be able to tell Boss what he likes about him in person, some day. Words on a chat log wouldn’t do justice, wouldn’t be potent. 

The list goes on, all the usual asks and accolades, and Boss chuckles. “Even so, you won’t get anything for free.” His head tilts to the side adorably and he presses a finger to his cheek, making a show of deliberation. 

“What shall I do tonight?” Boss muses, evenly. He reorients his body until he’s lying on his side, his hand supporting his head, “I could spank myself.” A fast swat bounces on his thigh, causing the muscle to ripple. “Stick a plug in and turn my ass red.”

“I could fuck myself with a toy.” Boss suggests haughtily, “ride it slowly and make you watch until you’re so hard or so wet you beg for it. What do you think?”

The words wash over Galo; he’s immersed in only Boss’s desires and his own, everything else in his head simmers down to a background drone. He smooths his hand over his leg, down the inside of his thigh and squeezes. He’s shaking already, muscles trembling, just like always because Boss works him up like nobody else. There is anticipation, and there is unbridled lust in his every shiver.

The chat nearly implodes in response, and the Boss snorts as he rises on his knees. He grips the bottom of his t-shirt in both hands, dragging it upwards and baring his belly. He keeps tugging it up until it's over his head, and he nonchalantly tosses it somewhere in the room. 

“You want this?” Boss pinches and flicks at a pink nipple, his voice breathy like a caress along Galo’s spine.

Yes, yes yes. Always, _yes_. 

“Who’s going to be the one to pay me for it?”

Dammit, someone’s already beaten Galo to it. Ten dollars to shed off his bottoms, and a slew of lewd comments follow. 5. 5. 15. Others are asking for a strip tease now, just wanting to see Boss naked. 

Galo erection throbs, straining behind his pants, and he traces over the outline of the head. Boss is a portrait of softness and grace. He turns to give them a view of his backside which tapers down to a narrow waist. His muscles are lean too, and his chest is superb—nipples perky and stomach taut...what Galo wouldn’t give to touch, to suck, and to bite down the expanse of Boss’s body, leaving marks where unblemished skin stretches. 

The chat continues to ding and go wild, exploding with comments about Boss’s physique and what they’d like to do to him, and Boss settles to read them, one hand drawing lazy lines over his chest as he goes. 

_***omg i’m gay, i’m so gay. i wanna lick your cock** _

_***Can’t wait for you to fuck yourself** _

_***want to tie you up and make YOU beg, baby** _

He stops posing for a moment and leans forward to read what's on the screen. He laughs a short kind of mocking laugh. 

_***how about you show me your feet ;)** _

“You’ll have to pay me to do that.” Boss sticks out his foot towards the camera. 

Ah, Galo recognizes this guy. Another regular. And he’s got a thing for feet apparently. Not that Galo is one to judge, though. Boss doesn’t seem to care either. He’s used to the dirtier, unusual requests, because there are always one or two explicit ones, the kind that either burns you up or crawls on your skin, depending on what you're into. 

_***i'll give you 15! you’re so hot ;3** _

“Make it twenty-five, and you got a deal.” Boss wiggles his toes in his socks and his fingers skim across the lace, teasingly. It's not a kink Galo is into personally, but the wiggle of his feet is undeniably cute, and it's hard to look away. 

25 is donated almost instantly, and an additional 10 and 15 from different viewers.

_***show us the goods boss!!** _

Everyone jumps on unanimously and agrees with the donators. They’re all like a horny hivemind at this point. Boss obliges, content, hooks his thumb under the fabric, sliding it down purposefully until it dangles off his toes. He does the same for the other pair, and they too are abandoned in an undisclosed part of his bedroom. Ugh god, his pale skin is perfect, clashing again his black shorts and dark sheets. 

Boss‘s gaze is sultry and fevered, and Galo feels as though he would combust right under that heat. “Perverts. You want me to step on you, don’t you? You’d love to be under me, crushing you beneath my heel.”

Tongue emojis sparkle up the chat log, along with that is a flood of more requests, and Galo has a hard time keeping up with the comments, most of which are just inane. 

“My mouth? That’s a strange thing to ask, you want me to just open it?"

Multiple users stand by this user’s side, and Galo fervently agrees. It’s a rarity for him to be mask less during a show, and Galo would not pass up the opportunity when it presents itself on a silver platter. 

As if contemplating, one delicate eyebrow tweaking up in interest, Boss looks over to his side. Galo is afraid he won’t accept. 

But the fates seem to be on his side today, because miraculously, Boss shrugs his shoulders and lets it slide. “It has been a while since I last showed my face. I was hoping to save another face reveal for a different stream, though I suppose I can tonight, as a treat. For fifty dollars, I’ll even add in a little surprise I’ve been holding off on. Consider it a perk,” he says, expectant. 

Uh, Galo has an extra 10 he can spare, and to his relief, four other people chips in 10 each.

“Very well, but the surprise requires context.” Boss shuffles closer to the camera, and Galo’s heart flutters. “A close friend of mine introduced me to a nice tattoo place downtown a few weeks back. I was so overwhelmed; I had no idea what to get. Hmm, perhaps I should let you all determine that for me, how about I post a poll after? Whichever design wins the most credits, I’ll consider it.”

O-okay. Yeah. That’s too much for Galo to think about. He’s already light-headed from every spare molecule of his blood going down south. Would Boss really follow through with that? Paint his body with something beautiful...and permanent? Just for them? Would he choose something that’s bold, or something that’s naughty and compromising and hidden away for only his fans to see after dark? Anything would look great on him, and what an ego trip that would be if Galo was the one to make the final decision. 

“Anyway, I’m getting off topic.” He waves a hand dismissively, “I was overwhelmed, but they were having a special and I didn’t want the trip to be a waste of time so...I decided on something else instead while I was there. Why don’t you tell me what you think?”

He comes ever so closer and finally takes off his mask…and goodness, Galo is entirely smitten! Boss is so handsome, so symmetrical with big, intense lilac eyes and the most perfect, fluffy hair. There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, then he opens his mouth—teeth white and straight—and Galo slumps in his chair, blown away. 

His tongue is pierced. 

A cut pearl ring pillows in the middle of the waggling appendage, and Galo can’t help but wonder what it would be like to sink into that wet, waiting mouth. 

_***aaahh so cute~** _

_***fire emoji, fire emoji, heart emoji** _

_***do it** _

_***do the ahegao face, you must** _

“No way, you weirdo.”

Boss reclines at the edge of his bed, pushes his hair off his face with one hand, which stretches his torso very attractively, and delivers a sly smile—leaving Galo thinking for the hundredth time why and how a perfect stranger has such an effect on him. It’s absolutely devastating, no one should be this amazing. 

_***i want him to eat me out :P** _

_***!!!!! suk my cock please?** _

“Alright, put your money where your mouth is. Someone pay me to blow them off.” 

50 credits. Another 50. 15. 10. 10. 20. 5.

Boss clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes in disinterest, “Come on, fork it over.”

More credits, and Boss seems satisfied enough. By Galo’s estimate, Boss should be somewhere around 300 credits already from barely doing anything. But it’s Boss, he concludes. Who else can do what he does with an attitude to boot? It’s a majorly charming, only amplified by everything else. 

“Fine, let’s see what I have to start with.” He reaches underneath the bed, showcasing a small, black tub full of toys and other paraphernalia for nights like this. “Which one, which one?”

The viewers have a few suggestions, Boss ignores them all and selects a purple toy used very often, and it’s one of Galo’s favorites too. Medium and not too wide, rubbery, and curved to hit all the right spots.

He settles on his knees and tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear. Knowing what is going to happen next makes Galo shift in his seat, heat blossoming in his belly. His erection is becoming too tight and uncomfortable to ignore now, leaking into his briefs, so he frees himself out of his pants and gives it a few unhurried strokes, pre-come already bubbling at the tip. 

“I know all of you don’t have dicks, so you can imagine this is your strap-on, or whatever suits your fancy.”

Boss takes hold of the base with one hand, and lavishes the head with kitten licks to get it damp, all the while his gaze is focused squarely on the camera, drowning in the compliments flooding the chat log. At this angle, the viewers can see Boss is hard too, the bulge pressing against his shorts. A skillful tongue swirls at the tip of the dildo before prodding it between his lips, and Boss lets out a low groan that jumps straight to Galo’s cock. His long eyelashes rest on his reddening cheeks, letting the flat of his tongue come out to coat the underside with spit. 

Galo watches, rapt. He even leans towards the screen as if to get a closer look.

The chat buzzes to a frenzy, users surprised on how well he takes it (as if there was any doubt) and others encouraging him to eat up the whole thing. He bobs his head rhythmically trying to do so; it’s not without effort though, and saliva begins to drip down the sides of the dildo. Pulling out until just the end is resting in his mouth, he gulps in a few breaths of air, and gradually pushes it in again, eyebrows furrowing in strain and concentration. 

Almost...Boss quietly gags... _almost_ —and it’s gone! He swallows the entirety of it, little flecks of pretty tears peeking at the corners of his eyes, and the comment section amasses praise.

Boss keeps still a few seconds longer until his reflex argues against it, and a sting of saliva connects with his tongue as the dildo slides out of his mouth. He gives the head a quick parting kiss, and sets it to his side. 

Users are clamoring for his attention. Donations continue ringing in.

“Got it wet enough for you? Ready to watch me take it all?” Boss slides his hand down his stomach, popping the first button off his shorts. He stands and turns in one swift motion, his backside to the camera, and flips open the final button revealing an ass so tantalizing, round and cute. “You show me another 250 credits and I'll do it.” 

Boss is going commando, cock flushed and yummy looking. He thumbs at the head, wiping a drop of sticky dew off the top, Galo envisions what it would be like to suck and love and make Boss come. 

“I bet you wish you could taste this.” Boss brings the gloved digit to his lips and licks away the bead of arousal, looking down with glinting eyes. Oh, Galo _wishes_. “It’s a shame you can’t.”

He reaches over to snatch a bottle off his nightstand, capping the top when his fingers come back glistening. Boss rolls back on his knees—presses his thighs together so his cock is free to twitch and rub between them from the friction—and just lets the ends of his fingers flutter around his puckered rim, tracing over rosy flesh. The first knuckle of a finger slips inside, and he sighs. “Although, you should consider yourself fortunate.”

Deeper and deeper it goes; Boss adjusts himself in front of the camera so everyone can see the way his hole clenches deliciously around the intrusion. “Fortunate you can have any of me at all.” 

Head tipped back, Boss releases a moan full of need and gently adds a second finger, scissoring himself open. Galo squirms, the grip on his cock tightens but not enough to make him burst; he wants to make this last as long as he can. He’s never been a real patient person, but there is no fun in getting off before the best part, so he has to keep himself in check when Boss is involved. 

Next comes a third; the penetration must feel tight and unbearably warm. Boss is so small—yet so stretchy; he shouldn’t be able to fit much inside, but Boss is nothing short of hardy and flexible. Galo has witnessed it before, the Boss’s body giving way and making room because he must love the pleasure of fullness. Boss is no quitter. You’d be surprised at what he can pull off with plenty of compensatory incentive, of course. 

Galo considers if Boss truly enjoys the hundreds of eyes on him, all baying for his affections, lapping up whatever he gives them, and how he demands that from them, won’t settle for less. 

When he is done preparing himself, he promptly glazes the purple dildo in lube, waving the toy obscenely for the viewers before dragging it up to his waiting hole, some liquid slicking down on his bed sheet.

“You really want to fuck me?” 

Galo nods, entranced in yearning and the promise of more to come. Boss half-growls, a sound so erotic, “You’d better earn it then.” 

His tone is all certainty, and Galo’s cock leaps at the way Boss commands him, all of them, speaking a strong tenor that says he is fully in control of the situation. 

“Beg me.” His mouth is a smirking, lilting line, radiating mischief. “Beg me to make myself come.”

Responses come quickly, credits racking higher. Galo bites his lip, touching himself in earnest now, his hand moves jerkily up and down, his erection angry and red and aroused to the point of acute sensitivity. 

Please, please please. It’s as if Boss is talking directly to him. He wants Galo to beg. 

Boss emits tiny noises in his throat, almost like a purr, as he pushes the end of the toy in by only a couple centimeters to tease and idly titillate, and Galo’s brain does that mental trick where it swaps the positions of dildo and his own arousal, his mind sinking into a space where he is completely at Boss’s mercy. 

“No,” Boss says, bored, shaking his head, “not good enough. If you want me to go deeper, you’re going to have to make it worth my while.”

The chat chimes:

_***mr.K: 1000 for you to fuck yourself slowly.** _

And that...doesn’t come as a shock to Galo. mr.K is a regular too, one of the Boss’s most generous donors, and the user has a reputation of riling up Boss in a way no one else does. It’s strange...Galo gets the impression there’s more going on behind the chatroom with those two, based on their interactions. 

“Hm.” Boss rumbles. “That's better, I guess. What’s the magic word?”

_***mr.K: Now.** _

He snorts. “Rude.”

He shifts into position, chest pressing down on the mattress and ass up in the air. Re-affirming his grip, Boss pushes towards home, slowly like mr.K requests and uses his other hand, left unattended, to spread an ass cheek. In and out, in and out—the dildo penetrates without much resistance, the wet squelches and his quiet moans reaching the camera audio.

As time goes on, Boss’s legs begin to shake a little, and his cock drips with small spritzes of pre-ejaculate down his thighs. 

_***mr.K: 500. Show more of your face when you fuck yourself.** _

An interesting suggestion. Albeit they won’t be able to get a good view of the action. Boss says, “Maybe...if everyone else can match your bid, Mister. Can’t have them too comfortable riding your coat tail.”

Contributions rapidly fill up on the turn of a dime, meeting the benchmark, so he relents and turns to his side. Boss’s erection bobs on his stomach when he resumes, pumping slow, deliberate strokes. Biting at a knuckle, Boss’s back arches and he looks like he’s enjoying it so much, face flushing, the toy loosening him up, and he looks so fucked out and—oh damn...

“Good, so good,” Boss whimpers. His voice is low and hard, dripping with sex. “I w-want to come on this.”

“S-shit,” Galo rasps. He’s so incredibly close to coming, so he makes a grab at the tissues on his desk, placing one on the head of his erection to catch it all when it comes as he imagines himself in place of the toy, cramming all of himself in where it’s slippery and hot. The Boss, in the video is panting, and the Boss in his mind squeezes tight around him, scratches nails through Galo’s hair and passes trembling lips close to his ear as he whines around his name. 

Galo would be able to move Boss into any position he wants; on his hands and knees, or long legs wrapping around his waist and fingers clawing at his back. He wouldn’t have to share with anyone else or watch from behind a computer screen. Or perhaps, Boss would still make him watch regardless, make him wait on edge and make him ask pleasingly before letting him come. He grunts, mind reeling. Yeah, that’s how he thinks Boss would be. 

_***mr.K: Not yet.** _

The user’s comment stands out among the rest that are eager, so it’s easy for it to be singled out.

Boss falters, pouts—wait, pouts! So cute!—and stares back, defiant, “why the hell not?”

_***mr.K: I want to see you use Detroit when you do. 2000.** _

“Seriously?” he says, meanly, irritated. “That thing could break me, I told you already before.”

_***mr.K: 3000.** _

Woah, that’s uh—a lot of the green. Where does this guy have that kind of money to freely give away? 

Galo huffs and tries not to be annoyed, tries not to be jealous; he’d probably do the same thing for Boss anyway if he had the finances to back it up. 

Boss’s eyes continue to scroll down the replies, tongue in cheek, and a temporary moment of resolve settles in his expression when he releases a frustrated exhale, “Asshole. You think if you pay me, I’ll put anything you want inside me.” 

The chat booms and people are tipping him by the bucket load, lobbying interest about this new device. Boss frowns when he reads the comments, but Galo must admit he’s a little curious too, a thrill rushing through him. Had this been planned, a scripted performance to make more people pay for privilege?

Galo hasn’t heard of Detroit before. Never seen Boss use or mention it. Galo knows all the toys and the tricks Boss keeps up his sleeve, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of them, but it’s...exciting, to know that tonight, he might see something completely new.

He is so ready to touch and chase after release, but he knows one stroke will have him coming and he wants to wait and see what’s next.

Grumbling at the loss, Boss pulls the dildo out, tucks it in a dry towel to freshen for next time. “Let me show the rest of the audience what you’re referring to. I’m sure they’ll be singing a different tune once they see it.”

Pushing a few stray hairs back into place, he ducks out the view of the camera, and returns with a box from another section from his bedroom, gift wrapped but the brand name is difficult to make out. 

“Came in the mail a few days ago,” Boss slips his fingers along the packaging, and Galo’s eyes are glued to the screen, “I couldn’t believe you actually bought this stupid thing for me when it arrived.”

...Bought? Galo knows enough that Boss doesn't accept gifts from users, for safety’s sake he guesses, so mr.K must’ve purchased it for him during one of their private sessions. 

Galo is jealous again. He wishes he could spoil Boss more too. Life’s not fair.

The chat’s gone static, like they’re all waiting with bated breath. 

“You’re really making me work today,” Boss mutters flatly, mostly to himself, and unceremoniously presents what’s inside, settling it between his thighs for comparison. “Here it is.”

...Look, Galo said it before. Boss is no quitter; he can handle a bit of abuse. But geez...let’s be realistic. 

Detroit is a beast—jet black and heavy and evil looking—sitting tall and proud all on its own, so dark against his pale skin. “This is humongous.” Boss’s hand barely closes around the length. “What practical use does this serve?” It passes well over his navel in girth, he looks small by comparison. The bottom of Galo’s stomach lurches, heat spilling and swelling. 

“You’re a fool if you truly believe I can handle all of this.” Boss bites back, not entirely convinced. It’s clear to see why, with a body like Boss’s, there’s just no way—he must’ve thought it was a gag gift, a bad joke.

_***mr.K: You can.**_

The view of the beast between Boss’s thighs is apparently enough to make all the viewers go ballistic, and Galo isn’t quite sure what to do with himself, because he’s not entirely convinced either. Still, he’s fascinated and shaky from being so hard. 

Galo at least wants to see him _try_ ; a more perverse part of his brain says. 

“...I’d better see that deposit in my account, Mister.” His eyes light with real, honest fire, “or I’ll block you.” He’s never empty on his threats. “The same applies to all of you; you don’t get to see me use this for free.”

Pledges drop like flies. Fifties, hundreds. He lubes it up with slick fingers, pumping his hand from the head to the base, and maneuvers on his knees again, slightly forward to accommodate the length. It bends somewhat at an angle, and Galo is throbbing at the sight of it all.

“Everyone watching?” Boss asks, gravelly and low, wiping his gloved, lubed hand on a towel at the edge of the shot. And yes, Galo is most definitely watching—transfixed with a fire so intense it matches the one inside of his body—also wondering if he’ll come just from watching. 

Air sucks between his teeth in a sharp inhale, and Boss holds it there in his lungs and grinds on the bulbous head, but it won’t give in the way that he wants it to. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispers. 

_***mrK: Make yourself relax.** _

Applying more pressure, Galo can see Boss’s expression turn into agitation, lips fighting hard to keep down its frown and to loosen up against the onslaught of Detroit. Cock still straining to stand towards his stomach, he sits up to change the direction of the penetration, and he chokes on a surprised moan when the head finally pops in. “Oh, fuck—,”

“S-so big.” Legs trembling, he works his way down and has to readjust his position to find purchase. He sinks lower and lower and stops, bouncing on just the first few inches, almost halfway down, and that’s enough indication to show how truly wide Detroit is. “T-this is all I can take; I can’t go all the way down.”

A trace of sweat races down Boss’s temple. “If you want to see me finish on this ridiculously-sized dick, you better show me the cash.” His words are gritty but hold a seductive timber to them. 

In amongst the chain of payments, Boss shudders against the press of Detroit with a wince, and Galo thinks how desperate he must be, how much he’s aching for release. 

Through the pain, eyebrows drawn together in the middle, Boss touches himself to seek relief, his erection drooling and red. Galo begins to match Boss’s strokes with his own, thinking of warmth and heat, soft flesh parting and his body surrounded. 

“I can even feel it here,” Boss grunts and huffs out, palming the flat of his stomach in search of a jut, but Galo can’t really tell from where he is. He rolls his hips, his breath hitches—and god, how it must feel to move with that inside of him, how he must be able to feel every tight drag and pull of it. Galo is struck with the thought of how Detroit had looked between Boss’s legs, where it had pointed up to his belly button, and now Boss is full of it, prodding his insides. 

“You’ve must have waited all week for this, Mister,” Boss croons derisively. “Must’ve been so h-hungry to watch me impale myself with this.”

The chat log flares to life, a stream of pleas, of people telling him they’re the same. Galo continues to tug himself, rolls his palm over his weeping head and strokes down the length of himself. It’s not going to take much at all, wound as tight as he is. 

The comments keep coming and his credits pour in, higher than it’s ever been. Boss’s thighs quiver, undulating his hips and pumping his erection to drag out every ounce of pleasure he can. 

With bleary eyes searching the chat window, he heaves a deep breath through his nose and his voice shakes when it shudders out, “I’m so full...can’t—ah—keep going. I’m g-gonna come.”

Replies say yes, yes, please, and mr.K’s says a firm no, big and loud, keep going, more and more until you can’t stand it. 

He glances toward the camera and it’s like he’s seeing through it, right through Galo’s screen to look him in the eye. He’s still all hooded lids and flushed cheeks, and when he nips his lip and stretches his neck back to display his creamy skin, it’s so deliberate, so intentional, so aimed at him that Galo’s whole body buckles beneath it.

Galo wants to type and tell him how good he looks—wants to say so much more, and if he were there, he would. He would wipe Boss’s bangs away and melt under the bottomless heat of his eyes, catch his mouth between his own where his teeth have bitten, have Boss writhing above him instead of on the toy.

Text sent through cyberspace just can’t compare to the real thing. 

He wants to tell him all of that. Tell him of his absolute need to feel Boss come around him. To see his face as he gives in to ecstasy. To hear him moan with Galo’s name falling off his lips as he does. 

That’s it, basically for Galo. He knocks his head back against the headrest and squeezes his eyes closed. He comes so suddenly he has neither the time nor the presence of mind to grab for a tissue, so it spills around his hand and splatters messily on his pants. White-hot, the aftershock knots and the ripples in his abdomen, flowing down to his toes. 

Boss blows too, shatters, body cramping stock still, and his voice devolves into a steady babble of broken whines as he spurts on the bed sheets. Shuddering, he collapses forward on his hands until the toy flops out with an audible pop, coming away sopping and drenched. His mouth is open slightly agape, taking in tiny gulps of air, trembling with every breath, eyes hazy and unfocused. His eyelids are barely lifting, long lashes shadowing his cheeks. 

He looks wrecked, tired, and spent, and Galo feels bad, left wanting to brush and soothe away the hurt if he could. 

It’s something Galo fantasizes about too; when the camera goes off, what is Boss like after a session? It would be nice to be able to help him clean up, to be able to hold and cuddle him to sleep. 

His breaths are loud in the steady four walls of his apartment. Galo glances at the clock on the bottom corner of the screen. It’s pushing close to midnight, and the credits begin to peter out after the grand finale, a few stragglers sticking around to watch the aftermath in awe, like you would with a car wreck.

Boss blinks, once, twice, the crest of his orgasm passing, and eases himself up, grimacing. He thumbs a splatter of come from his stomach and slips it between his lips. “Sticky,” he mutters, reaching for a towel, and Galo agrees, wiping up his own mess with a tissue after the liquid runs cold. 

He always comes super hard from watching Boss, which is another reason why he’s so addicted—he can’t get enough. 

“How many of you came from that?” Boss asks, voice raw and so lovely to hear. The remaining bunch spout out their replies and applause. “Good, I take it you all had fun.”

Reaching behind his back, Boss runs his fingers down to the cleft of his ass, “I’ll have to plug myself up tonight. I feel so empty now, my fingers slip so easily inside.” And the thought of his hole struggling to close around nothing, the _gape_ , jostles interest in Galo’s cock again, even after orgasm. 

“Wouldn’t you like to see?”

Yes, of course Galo would! The comment section buzzes with agreement.

“Hmm, too bad.” He pulls his hand away with a wicked smirk, those lilac eyes sparkling. “I’m not accepting any more credits for the steam, sorry. Another time maybe.”

Galo should have expected that anyway, but he’s sure he’ll masturbate to the thought throughout the week. Ugh, it’s going to be torture. Boss truly knows how to tempt and toy with him so effortlessly.

_***mr.K: Turn around and show me already.** _

_***mr.K: Show me.** _

_***mr.K: Show. Me.** _

_***mr.K: Damn cocktease** _

Galo freezes and frowns; no, he doesn’t like that.

Boss’s lips tighten, “Don’t tell me what to do,” he says. There are razors in it. “Or have you forgotten how this works?”

_***mr.K: What if I say please?** _

“That’s unexpectedly polite of you, but the answer is still no,” Boss responds, dry but firm. “You’ll have to be patient and behave like everyone else. Even if it’s not in your nature to be patient.” He shrugs indifferently.

mr.K’s messenger floats with ellipses for a couple seconds and disappears altogether, disconnecting from the chat. 

The comments die down after that, and Galo watches the number of live viewers log out and dwindle to double digits. In this quiet moment, he feels the instant inclination to leave a message. He has to leave something after a show like that, if not more credits he can’t really afford, then a comment of gratitude. He’s hoping Boss will stay around long enough for the two of them to be the only ones left. 

When they’re alone, everything would be easier. 

Single digits. Only eight viewers remain. 

Galo’s mouse hovers over the chat log box, heart clenching in his ribcage. What should he say? Or the better question is, what shouldn’t he say? Where to even start? How many characters does this chat box take? If he starts writing now, will he be able to stop?

“Anyway, thanks for watching and paying my rent, to those of you who are left. Until next time.” Boss rounds off, reaching for the camera, and angling it for one last shot of his face. Then a poke of his tongue, the stream ends and the video goes dark. 

The last three viewers sign off.

The cursor sits plainly on the chat box; it blinks, and Galo blinks back. 

Slumping back into his chair, Galo sighs, feeling wrung out. He clicks the big red X at the corner of the webpage and shuts down his laptop for morning’s use, the screen blackening, leaving only his reflection on the monitor. 

In the calm that follows, Galo burns, scrubbing a frustrated hand through his hair. 

Boss is so awesome. Whip-sharp and sexy. Even through the mass of videos on the website, hundreds of them, pages upon pages of results—any number of them doesn’t hold a candle. The only thing Galo doesn’t like is when the stream ends, and when there are too many people in the chat room, all demanding acknowledgment for which Boss doesn’t give lightly, spread too thin. 

His thoughts drift to mr.K and their gracious donations. With dough like that, Boss promotes private sessions at his discretion, however it’s not something advertised often when he can just reap the reward of multiple users donating at once. 

But to get the Boss’s proper attention, to have any shot at all, he’s gotta get cash. A task easier said than done, but doable and straightforward; if Galo gave up with something as easy as that, what kind of man would he be? Not one worthy of him.

...A special one-on-one with Boss—yeah, that seems like an investment worth pursuing. Galo could learn more about him, find out where his interests are, aside from his Thursday night performances.

After he showers and preps a meal for tomorrow, he rolls around restlessly in bed until, without finesse, he reaches under the covers and pulls down his sweatpants to stroke himself. He thinks about amethyst eyes filled with allure and twinkling with intelligence. He remembers his voice, his soft moans, resounding and echoing in his head. He thinks what it would be like to make him laugh, to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear, to pull him close, to kiss his lips. That’s what he thinks about when he comes into his hand. 

He sleeps little that night. 

Galo has a crush, and he really wants to _know_ him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It's cliche, but super fun to write! Unbeta'd, please excuse any mistakes and let me know if you spot anything off. Comments and critique are much appreciated.


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